


Coquettish

by GE Buchanan (GracieForeth)



Series: Avenger Smut [1]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 07:28:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10239008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GracieForeth/pseuds/GE%20Buchanan
Summary: co·quet·tishkōˈkediSH/adjectivebehaving in such a way as to suggest a playful sexual attraction; flirtatious.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: heavy flirtation, Russian dirty talk

Tatiana dragged the rag across the table swiftly, wiping up the crumbs and spilt coffee that the patron left behind. She pushed the chair back in and rearranged the advertising tent in the middle with the vase that held a gerber daisy. She was ready to close up early since she only had two customers in the last hour alone. Maybe could finally catch up on the book work that she have been too busy to do. The bell rang, signaling her that someone had just walked into the quaint coffee shop she owned, and inwardly groaned. There's no closing early tonight. She walked briskly towards the counter as she saw the gentleman look in the case at the array of desserts she had stocked from the bakery next door. Mr. Zayns was an artist with his ingredients.

"Evening," she smiled as she placed the rag in the designated bucket and washed her hands in the sink. She threw the paper towel away, turning her head towards him. "What can I get you?" she smiled.

"Um, can you give me a minute," he said softly.

"Let me know when you're ready." She never liked to crowd a patron, especially a new one. She busied herself with the menial tasks as she waited for him to decide, sneaking a glance at him occasionally. He was handsome in a rugged way: scruff that was more than a shadow but less to constitute as a beard, dark brown locks that had a slight wave to them that hit his shoulders and were tucked behind his ears so he could wear the black baseball cap, the same hat that hid his eyes that she could tell were light. Blue or maybe gray?

Her second glance noticed he wore leather gloves on both hands with a dark red Henley under a black leather jacket and dark jeans. Her eyes shifted out the window and saw a motorcycle parked on the street, making his attire in the middle of summer not that alarming.

"Excuse me," his voice interrupted her thoughts, making her gasp softly, her cheeks burning. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."

Tatiana shook her head and waved her hand to brush his apology off. "It's fine. I lose myself in thought all the time," she said as she walked over to him, "What can I get you sweetie?"

The man raised his brow to her. "You call everyone sweetie?" he asked, the corner of his mouth shifted as if he was going to smile, but he stopped himself. She could tell by the look on his face that he disliked it, causing Mavis to blush even more.

"Yes, actually," she responded. She could feel the heat in her cheeks, but the way he looked at her, her whole body was warm. She cleared her throat, her mouth becoming parched all of sudden. "So what would it be?"

He looked in the case, his finger pointing to the item. "I'll take one of those cranberry orange scones," he said, his eyes squinted a bit as he read the tag of the bakery, "and a coffee."

Tatiana nodded. "Here or on the go?" she asked as she rang up the items, her eyes refusing to look at him.

"Here, if you don't mind," he answered, "I know you probably would want to close early." He handed her a twenty and she got his change.

Tatiana smiled and shook her head. "No worries," she assured him, "take your time. No rush." She retrieved the scone and put it on a plate and handed it to him.

"Спасибо, красивый," he said with a smile, causing Tatiana to stare at him, shocked.

"Ты говоришь по-русски?" she asked, a small smile forming on her lips. The man blushed, and nodded his head, almost embarrassed by it.

"Yeah, but I don't use it, so I'm a little rusty." He seemed to laugh at that he was losing the skill.

"My parents were from Chekhov, you?" She saw his eyes darken a bit causing her to be confused.

"More like an exchange student," he replied quietly, taking the cup and plate. "It sticks with you. You don't sounds like you're Russian." He started towards a small table in the back corner, taking the seat facing the café.

Tatiana grabbed the rag and moved to the next table that needed to be cleaned. "Mom and my aunt moved here in May of '86, just before I was born. Russian was still my first language."

"Your father didn't come with?" His eyes were fixed on her, the cup between his hands.

She bit her lip and sighed, it wasn't something she didn't know much about. "He worked in Chernobyl. Started there just weeks before the incident. I don't know much more than."

"прости." He took a sip of his coffee, his eyes looked like they were full of remorse and regret.

"Это в прошлом. Ничего не делать, но двигаться дальше," she responded with a smile. She picked up a chair and turned it over on the table.

"Вы знаете , вы на самом деле красиво," he said, his cheeks tinged pink. He removed his ball cap and ran a gloved had through his hair. He looked down at the bakery in front of him, taking a glove off his right hand and setting it on the table. He broke a piece off and plopped it into his mouth, chewing with his eyes on the table.

"И вы столь же красивый," she smiled, putting another chair up on the table. "You flirt better in Russian or ate you pretty equal in English?" His eyes snapped up at her and she smiled more.

"Depends on if English is going to work on you, or you prefer hearing it in your native tongue." He gave her a smirk, his blue eyes sparkled as she laughed, putting up another chair.

Не мужчина мужчины говорят на русском , так что никогда не был один флиртовать со мной в нем."

"Then you need it in Russian," he laughed, leaning back in his chair and sipped his coffee. "Кто-нибудь когда-нибудь говорил вам, что ваши глаза синие, как море в середине зимы."

Tatiana fumbled the chair she had in her hand, her cheeks burning red with embarrassment. "Нет," she muttered, putting the chair up.

"Что ты потрясающий, когда вы краснеть?" He took another piece of the scone and put it in his mouth.

"Нет." She could feel her neck getting warm as well.

"  
Кто-нибудь вытащил свой хвостик и шептала грязные вещи в вашем ухе?"

"Not in Russian," she responded without thinking. She smirked at him, his eyes raked over her body. "Though, you hear it once, you've heard it all." She walked back to the counter, swaying her hips more than was necessary.

"Русский жарче," he teased. Her heart leapt at the smile he gave her, but she fought to control the little composure she had left.

"I wouldn't doubt it, but I don't трахаюсь strangers," she responded.

"I'm James. Friends call me Bucky," he responded with a smile. "So I'm not a stranger anymore."

"Tatiana." She shook her head with a smile. "Still not going to трахаюсь you."

"Why not?" His brow furrowed and she had to laugh.

"You look like a lost little puppy with that look. And I don't until the second date."

"Well, this can be considered the first date, and Saturday can be the second one."

"You're very sure of yourself, aren't you."

"Never disappointed anyone."

Tatiana chewed her lip, thinking about her answer. She sighed in mock defeat and conceded. "Fine, Mario's on 13th, Saturday at noon. "Я буду хотеть , чтобы увидеть все, что," she motioned to his whole self, "при естественном освещении."


End file.
